


Real Person Fiction

by popfly



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Crack, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny reads fan fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Person Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of in response to that unfortunate article about RPF that someone linked on Twitter yesterday. And honestly, if you did get here by Googling yourself, please close this tab/window immediately. Read through by my babes Lacey and Danielle, the bestest of the best of hockey girlfriends.

Jonny’s pan searing a salmon fillet when his phone rings, TJ Oshie’s name popping up on the screen.

“Hey,” Jonny says after he’s accepted the call, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear. “Long time, no talk.”

“Hold the small talk, Jonny, I have just discovered something disturbing and hilarious. Have you ever heard of RPF?”

TJ goes on to explain that RPF stands for real people fiction, stories written about people - like hockey player people.

“I read this article today about it, and got to thinking. If people are writing love stories about freaking Disney actors they might be writing stories about hockey players, right? So I Googled to see if there was any about me - fuck off, don’t laugh, you know you Google yourself and your teammates all the fucking time.”

“But not to see if some teenage girl is writing stories about me,” Jonny says, laughing anyway. Seriously, TJ is such a tool sometimes.

“They’re not just written by teenage girls, though, dude. I mean, yeah okay, some of it clearly was - “

“You read some?”

TJ scoffs, like _obviously_ , and seriously. _Such_ a tool.

“Yeah, dude. Why wouldn’t I? Girls are writing up their fantasies about me online. That’s awesome.”

“Okay, I’m missing the point of you telling me this.”

“I’m getting there, dickbag. The third item on the Google search had your name it. Yours and Kane’s.”

Jonny’s sliding the salmon onto a plate, and nearly drops it on the floor. “I’m sorry, what?”

TJ sounds positively gleeful. “I am sending you links right now.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m doing it. This is something you have to see.”

Jonny’s about to protest more - from the tone of TJ’s voice he’s not going to like any of this. He’s still not fully understanding what TJ’s even talking about.

“Check your email,” TJ says, and then he hangs up.

Tool.

Jonny is not going to check his email, because he has dinner to eat, and at least three episodes of Breaking Bad to catch up on; he has a night planned, here. But his phone chimes as he’s sitting down, and he thumbs the screen on as he settles, sees the notification for a new email.

It’s from TJ, no surprise there, and the subject line is “ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The sheer number of exclamation points is terrifying, and he should delete it unread based on those alone.

Instead he opens it.

And clicks on the first link.

It takes him to a website called Archive of Our Own, and the first word his eyes catch on is “Explicit” right next to word “Rating.” A little further down he sees “Relationships: Jonathan Toews/Patrick Kane/TJ Oshie.”

He nearly chokes on his first bite of salmon.

His dinner goes cold as he scrolls down, eyes skipping over increasingly more alarming words. “BDSM” jumps out at him, and “threesome.”

TJ sent him a porn story. About him and Jonny and Kaner fucking.

Jonny reads the whole thing, cheeks flaming, while his dinner goes cold.

When he’s done his stomach is clenched, his skin is hot, and he’s hard. He gets up and shoves his plate into the sink, salmon nearly untouched, and then goes to a long, cold shower.

He puts the story, and the email out of his mind, narrowing his focus to getting clean, getting soft, and getting the fuck to bed.

If he dreams about the story, he won’t let himself remember it in the morning.

There are three text messages on his phone the next day, all three from TJ.

_Did u read??????????????_

_U totally did didnt u? I bet you luved it._

_Did u die tho seriously? Like id ever fucking sleep w kaner, gross. I prefer to stay herp free thx_

Jonny squeezes his eyes closed and deletes them all.

Then he reopens the email, because he’s a masochist, and he needs to know what else is out there.

What else is out there is a lot, to say the least.

There’s not a huge quantity of threesome stories, but there is a shit fucking ton of stories about him and Kaner. Some are short and nothing but sex, some are longer and apparently full of pining and drama, and jesus, romance, if the tags (he hadn’t even known what those were before, but he’s learning a lot, apparently) are anything to go by.

He clicks on one that’s medium long, and classifies itself as “porn with feelings,” and feels sick to his stomach as he starts to read.

His phone rings when he’s nearing the end, and he’s startled when it vibrates against the nightstand, jerking Jonny out of the weird reverie he’s been in while reading the story.

It’s TJ.

“You’re a dick,” is the way Jonny answers the phone, and TJ laughs for like a solid minute.

Jonny debates hanging up, but doesn’t. He really is a masochist.

“Did you read the ones I sent you? Broning, dude, they actually use the word broning. That is genius.”

“Did you read them?”

“Nah, I just clicked on a bunch of links and picked the ones that seemed the dirtiest. I only read the first couple and then I got to one that said something like, ‘if you got here by Googling your own name please go away’ and I thought it would be rude to read it, so I didn’t. And then my girlfriend came over and I got distracted.”

Jonny can practically hear TJ leering on the other end of the phone and rolls his eyes. “Well I’m not reading them either. Why would I want to read about sleeping with you? In case you missed my greeting, you’re a dick.”

“But you’ll read about sleeping with Kaner.” Jonny’s not quick enough with a comeback, and TJ snorts with laughter. “You’re so fucking predictable. You know you could just man up and tell him you’ve been fucking stupid for him for years. I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to turn you down.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Jonny says, and makes sure his voice is as flat as possible.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your stories. Hey, if you’re feeling inspired maybe you could write one of your own.”

Jonny hangs up.

Fucking ridiculous.

He still finishes the story, feeling gutted at the end despite the happy ending. He clicks on the author’s name and finds three other stories about him and Kaner. He reads all three.

He reads a lot more than that, too, and some of them are … inventive, to say the least. Jonny’s watched some gay porn, because he’s always been curious, but reading about these things is different from seeing them acted out by dudes with shitty webcams.

It feels more intimate, almost. More real.

It’s definitely easier to picture himself and Kaner in those positions, when it’s their names.

He feels sick. Guilty sick, and also “been awake for five hours and haven’t eaten” sick.

The second one he fix. He’s not sure he can fix the first one.

 

Jonny’s phone rings again that night, and he’s about to thumb the screen and bitch at TJ, when he sees Kaner’s name flash instead of TJ’s.

“Shit,” he says out loud, and then doesn’t answer, shoving the phone under one of the throw pillows on the couch like that’ll make it go away.

Kaner calls back, of course, and then again, because he’s apparently allergic to voice mail and also not being an annoying douche.

Jonny picks it up the fourth time, and doesn’t have to act irritated, because he is. “What?” he asks, by way of greeting, and Kaner doesn’t come back with his usual sarcasm. Instead he sounds kind of hesitant.

“Uh,” he says, and then, “hey. Hey, Jonny.”

“Hey, Kaner,” Jonny says, imitating Kaner’s tone. Kaner huffs down the phone, and Jonny rolls his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I, uh. I got an email from TJ Oshie today.”

Jonny’s mouth drops open. He’s going to fucking kill TJ. He’s going to fly to fucking Minnesota and kill him. “Don’t click the links,” Jonny says, and he can’t keep the panic out of his voice.

“He sent them to you too? Of course he did, I should’ve figured. Fuck, did you read them?”

“No,” Jonny says, but he’s pretty sure he’s not fooling Kaner. Kaner’s pretty good at picking up on his lies. Now is no different.

“Can you believe some of this stuff?”

“You read them?”

“Of course I did! Someone sends you links to porn that’s written about you, you click the links.”

“Jesus, Kaner.”

“Don’t give me that, you clicked them.”

Kaner’s got him there.

He has no idea where to go with this conversation. Laugh it off, maybe? So people are writing incredibly detailed, graphic, explicit stories about him and Kaner in many different positions, doing things Jonny hadn’t even realized were possible. So what?

“So, uh,” Kaner says, before Jonny can figure out how to play it. “What did you think?”

Jonny gapes at the wall. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you know. Some of them were - well, I mean, other than the ones with fucking TJ in them, that shit’s just gross. But the other ones, they were. You know. Not bad.”

“Not bad,” Jonny repeats.

“Yeah. Well written, for sure. Better than a lot of the books I’ve read.”

“That’s because you read terrible books.”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a familiar exchange, and it dissipates some of the terror making Jonny’s muscles seize up. If Kaner can talk about it like it’s totally normal than Jonny can too.

“I suppose the writing is pretty good. Some of the plot lines are totally implausible, though.”

“Oh man, I know. Can you imagine me working in a coffee shop? And you being a lawyer? Jesus, you’d be a fucking shitty lawyer, dude.”

Jonny hadn’t read any where he’s a lawyer. “Wait, I didn’t read that one.”

“Which ones did you read?”

Jonny’s about to start listing them off, but he snaps his mouth shut. “This is not a conversation I want to be having.”

Kaner makes a crowing noise down the phone, and Jonny flinches away from it. “You read the super dirty ones, didn’t you?”

Jonny stays quiet, mulishly clenching his jaw, and Kaner is laughing like a hyena on the other end.

“Jonny, Jonny, Jonny. You never cease to surprise me.” He goes quiet then, and Jonny bites his lip, because he has literally no idea where to take this conversation now, but he would like it to be over as soon as possible. “Did you get any ideas?”

Did he - what? Kaner’s voice has dropped a little, going husky in a way Jonny’s never heard before, and a flare of heat goes straight to Jonny’s dick. Is Kaner asking what he thinks he’s asking?

“Ideas?”

“Yeah, you know. About what to do? With me?”

And now Jonny’s dick is way into the conversation. Kaner sounds like a phone sex operator. And fuck, just thinking about phone sex with Kaner has Jonny so hard so fast he feels a little lightheaded.

“Uh,” is all he can say, because he’s thinking of all the things he’s read, and picturing doing them to Kaner, and his brain is so focused on the images it can’t really make words. Kaner laughs, low and kind of dirty, sleazy in that perfectly Kaner way, and Jonny has to press the heel of his hand to his dick, rock hard under two layers of clothing.

“You are such an asshole. Years of flirting and it takes TJ Oshie and fan fiction to get you hot for me.”

“Sorry?” Jonny says, because maybe he should’ve figured it out sooner but he’s always been a visual learner. The fan fiction had been like plays on a whiteboard. Now that he knows he has a willing linemate he thinks the execution should be fairly easy.

“When we get back to Chicago we are acting out like three of those fucking stories. All at once.”

Jonny laughs, throaty and breathless, and lifts his hand away from his dick. “You gonna make me a latte, Kaner?”

“I’ll definitely give you a shot of something,” is Kaner’s response, and Jonny rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he strains something.

“I hope there aren’t any stories where you’re a stand-up comedian.”

“Fuck you, I’m hilarious.”

“You could come to Winnipeg,” Jonny says, changing the subject. Patrick is quiet for a moment, and then he chuckles.

“Guess I could. I’ll book a ticket.”

Jonny smiles, and hopes Patrick can hear it in his voice. “I’ll keep reading until you get here. You know. Research.”

Patrick snorts once and then hangs up, and Jonny pulls up Archive of Our Own again. He’s got some studying to do.


End file.
